


Social Experiment

by LilLayneeLoo



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Justice League & Justice League Unlimited (Cartoons), Superman - All Media Types
Genre: First Dates, Friends to Lovers, Gossip, I'm Bad At Summaries, I'm Bad At Tagging, Identity Porn, Idiots in Love, M/M, Misunderstandings, Secret Crush, Secret Identity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-02
Updated: 2020-06-08
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:29:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 19,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24503155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LilLayneeLoo/pseuds/LilLayneeLoo
Summary: "We have a problem, Superman."“If you’re referring to the shortage of coffee we’re inevitably going to have once Flash offers an iced mocha to every female on board, then yes, you’re correct...If you’re referring to the fact that Green Arrow and Black Canary’s privacy has been violated via several false rumors travelling around this satellite faster than I can fly, then you are also correct... Although, B, when are you ever not correct?”Or, Superman goes on a date with Bruce Wayne, and Batman goes on a date with Clark Kent, all in the name of "social science."
Relationships: Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne
Comments: 70
Kudos: 577





	1. The Plan

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so this one's been in my folder for a while now. It's a multi-chapter work, so if anyone's interested, I'll publish them as I edit them.
> 
> I hope you enjoy.
> 
> As always, I appreciate the reads, kudos, and comments. :)

“We have a problem, Superman.”

The World’s Finest were standing on the main deck of the Watchtower II, looking down on the bustling lounge below them. Not many of the members of the Justice League were currently out on patrol, so  _ bustling _ was incredibly accurate.

Just under  _ sixty _ heroes were aboard the tower; some of them had congregated to spar in the gym and most of the founding members had made their way to their permanent personal quarters; save for Flash, who had joined the other forty-some individuals currently eating dinner at the tables below.

Flash was never one to miss food.

“If you’re referring to the shortage of coffee we’re inevitably going to have once Flash offers an iced mocha to every female on board, then yes, you’re correct,” Superman smiled, glancing at his colleague and friend of over 10 years. “If you’re referring to the fact that Green Arrow and Black Canary’s privacy has been violated via several false rumors travelling around this satellite faster than I can fly, then you are also correct.”

He smiled again, and turned his whole body towards Batman. 

“Although, B, when are you ever  _ not _ correct?”

“Never,” Batman growled. Then he returned a very small smile. “I was referencing the latter, and honestly I might even feel sorry for them, except I believe Arrow is one of the worst quidnuncs in the League.”

“Quidnunc?” Superman laughed. “What the hell does that mean?”

“Gossip monger,” Batman said, in a slightly exasperated tone that suggested this was common knowledge. “It’s someone who believes and therefore perpetuates gossip. He starts it too.”

“Oh, so you mean he’s like Flash,” Superman said, gesturing to the younger hero who was enthralled in what appeared to be an argument between Hawk and Dove. “How much do you want to bet that we’ll hear all about their conversation later?”

“I don’t need to bet,” Batman growled. “I  _ know  _ we’ll hear about it, and that’s the problem.”

“What do you want to do?” He was fiddling with his red cape now, adjusting the shoulders. “I mean, is there really anything we  _ can _ do?”

“I think our only option would be to address the entire league; make it clear that gossip is not something that is acceptable, especially when it is at the expense of one or some of our own,” Batman said. “I had honestly hoped that this would not be a necessary conversation, but based on the last few days, it  _ clearly  _ is.”

“I agree,” Superman said, nodding. “Should we bring it up at the next group conference? Or should we schedule one specifically to address it.”

Batman seemed to contemplate something for a few moments.

“Actually, before we say anything,” He said, eyes narrowing. “I think this is the perfect opportunity to conduct a social experiment, of sorts, to see just how far rumors go.”

“Okay…” Superman said. “But how exactly would we do that?”

“We will leak a rumor, I suppose, something false about me,” Batman said, nodding. “Something  _ interesting _ and unlikely, and then I’ll fuel it. I’m interested in seeing how long it takes for  _ every single member _ of the league to hear the rumor, including you and I.”

“Sounds relatively harmless,” Superman agreed. “Except maybe to  _ you _ if your reputation is damaged. What if it gets outside of the league? What would you do then?”

“I’ll make it  _ interesting _ , but easily reversible,” Batman said, a malicious smile forming on his face. “And if it does get outside the league  _ by means of _ someone  _ in  _ the league, there will be hell to pay. Oh, Superman, this could be fun.”

“Okay, but what are you going to leak, and to whom?” Superman asked. “Like the person you leak it to makes a big difference whether or not the gossip spreads at all. Like Diana, for example, isn’t going to share a single thing she’s told about you.”

“That is true, and leads me to something else I’ve been wondering as well,” Batman said, rubbing his chin inquisitively. “I wish there was a way to determine who spreads a rumor faster, Arrow or Flash, however there is no way I could tell without breaching the league’s privacy. I cannot exactly record conversations…”

He turned to Superman and raised an eyebrow, as if waiting for verification that this, indeed, would be inappropriate. Superman shook his head.

“No, you definitely shouldn’t do that.” He hesitated a moment, then said: “You could, however, leak  _ two different rumors _ to two different people, and see which one comes back to us faster.”

Batman seemed to consider this option for a second, then shook his head too.

“If two pieces of information suddenly leaked about me, it would be very suspicious,” he said. “Given how private everyone knows I am.”

“What if the second one was about me?” Superman suggested, trying to hide the excitement in his voice. It was exhilarating, the possibility of playing a sort of prank on the other league members, especially if it was something solely between him and  _ Batman _ . The fact that  _ he _ had been the one approached to help Batman carry this out made him feel warm inside.

“That could work,” the other hero said, the grin reappearing. “That could definitely work. We leak something about you to Flash and something about me to Arrow, or vice versa, and see which rumor we hear about first. What do you suggest we say?”

They both contemplated in silence for a moment.

“What about our love lives?” Batman suggested. He didn’t notice as Superman swallowed thickly. “That seemed to cause a lot of stir for Arrow and Canary; it likely would for us as well. It’s also easily reversible; just publicly announce a break up.”

“What are you suggesting?” Superman asked, biting his lower lip. “Should we pretend we’re dating someone else from the league? Or a civilian?”

“Definitely a civilian,” Batman said. “We don’t want to involve too many people from the league or the results will be skewed. Besides, I already have the perfect candidate for you. He’s a friend of mine, and he’s one of the league’s benefactors; Bruce Wayne. He’d never do it with me, but he might go for the Man of Steel.”

“Okay,” Superman laughed. “I’ve only met him once or twice, but I suppose that’s enough to convince the league that we had a spark. I’ve got the perfect guy for you too. Clark Kent; have you met him?”

“Yeah, I have,” Batman said. “Your friend from the Daily Planet, right?”

“Yep,” Superman nodded. “He usually only writes about me, but he’s actually quite a big fan of yours. I’m sure he would be willing to play pretend with you if it meant he got an interview out of it. Can you swing that?”

“For the experiment, I guess,” Batman said, shrugging lightly. “It’s not ideal, but I can just be vague...I’ll have to ask Wayne, though, before I make any promises.”

“Oh yeah,” Superman blushed. “Me too, I’ll have to ask Clark I mean. Like I said, though, he’ll probably be on board right away.”

“I’m sure Wayne will too,” Batman said. “He has a playboy persona to keep up; I’m sure he wouldn’t mind pretending Superman is another notch in his belt.”

They both chuckled lightly, then were pulled away from their conversation by the shattering of glass in the lounge below them. 

“Rao,” Superman sighed. “I’ll go see what’s up. Let me know when you hear from Wayne, okay?”

“Sounds good,” Batman said, nodding gruffly. “You too.”

\-----

Once both heroes had ‘heard’ from their respective candidates, they decided to meet up in Superman’s Fortress of Solitude to discuss their plan without distraction.

“Clark said an interview wasn’t even necessary,” Superman said as he led Batman into the control room. They took seats in front of the computer, simply out of habit, before turning to face each other. “He’s willing to be your fake boyfriend just for the chance to meet you.”

Batman nodded.

“Good. I was admittedly unsure about the interview. You know me, Batman doesn’t do public appearances. Wayne is more than happy to do it as well; like I said, he feels it might add to his public image to be seen on the arm of a superhero.”

“Why hasn’t he ever gone out with you, then?” Superman asked. 

“He’s not exactly my type,” Batman said, shaking his head.

“Oh...do you not…” Superman stuttered.

“Yes,” Batman said, quietly. “I am interested in...men...just, not arrogant suckholes like Wayne.”

Superman burst out laughing, his shoulders shaking from the force of it. Batman even smiled a little; a normal smile, absent of cynic and mischief. 

“Don’t...ah...don’t tell him I said that,” he murmured, chuckling to himself.

“Don’t worry,” Superman said, raising his hands. “I wouldn’t do that to you.” 

A pause.

“I’m also...interested in men...but I don’t know enough to judge Wayne before I really know him. Thanks for the vote of confidence though, B.”

Batman stared at him for a minute before saying: “No problem. I bet you’ll get on just fine.”

“Does that mean I’m  _ also _ an arrogant suckhole?” Superman said, trying his best to look hurt.

“Let’s just talk about how we’re going to do this, Superman,” Batman said, smirking as he diverted their attention to the screen. “I took the liberty of constructing a tentative ‘dating’ schedule for the both of us and our respective partners. Of course, we want to try and waste as little time as possible with the set up, so all of these ‘dates’ will happen on the same day. This Saturday for you and Wayne, this Sunday for Clark and myself. I’m assuming he has the weekends off?”

“Yes he does,” Superman said, running over the detailed chart above him. Each day had several locations, each with a designated photo-op with instructions on how to pose. “Are we going to be showing Arrow and Flash the photos then?”

“That’s the plan,” Batman said. “Although, in order to make it look authentic, Kent and Wayne will have to change outfits every time we take them to a new location. That will make it seem like we’ve been on multiple dates.”

“Did Wayne already agree to that?” Superman asked. “Clark made it clear that he is ‘all-in, whatever Batman wants,’ so that won’t be an issue with him.”

“Wayne felt similarly,” Batman nodded. “He’s fairly used to doing what people tell him anyway; posing for photos, kissing and telling; that sort of thing.”

Superman nodded. “So I guess all we can do now is wait, really.”

“Well, don’t be too hasty,” Batman grumbled. “We have to have a plan for the  _ general public’s  _ reaction, not to mention actually breaking the story to our quidnuncs.”

“Can you stop using that word?” Superman groaned, fading into a chuckle. “Nobody knows it. Like literally nobody knows that it exists in the dictionary except for you. It makes you seem pretentious.”

“I am pretentious,” Batman said, smirking. “You and Diana have told me on multiple occasions.”

He pressed a button on the screen, and the page shifted.

“I think I can handle dealing with the paparazzi. I’ll get Robin and Nightwing to cause a scene; one on Saturday and one on Sunday. That will grab the attention of the media. As for bystanders…you’ll find a lot of this stuff entails relative seclusion in the first place, but in the museums and such, I’ll just buy them out for an hour or two. I think it’ll be fine. We  _ do _ really need to know how and when we are going to tell Arrow and Flash that we are involved with Kent and Wayne.”

“It can’t exactly be blatant, either,” Superman said. “It doesn’t make for  _ hot gossip _ if the subjects of said gossip are on board with it being public knowledge. It wouldn’t spread at all.”

“Very true,” Batman said. “I have monitor duty on Tuesday night, from which Arrow is scheduled to relieve me. Perhaps I could pull up a photo of Kent and myself on one of the screens? Then it would appear I am  _ dreaming  _ about him. I can pretend that I’m ashamed I’ve been caught in the act.”

“That’s perfect!” Superman said. “Flash and I actually usually spar together on Tuesday evenings, cause I’m the only one who can match his pace. Maybe I could come up with something then.”

“I could arrange for Wayne to call you during your training,” Batman suggested. “Then it seems like an accidental reveal.”

“Do you think Wayne would do that?” Superman asked. “Cause if he would, that would work really well, I think.”

“I’m positive he would,” Batman nodded. “That playboy doesn’t pass up the opportunity to flirt shamelessly with someone, especially a handsome superhero. He’ll be making you blush  _ genuinely _ .”

Superman bit his lip, a slight pinkish tinge appearing on his cheeks. “He doesn’t have to make it too realistic, you know.”

“Are you kidding?” Batman said. “Yes he does. You have to be convincing, or the whole plan will fall apart!”

“Okay, okay,” Superman said. “I’m just easily embarrassed, that’s all.”

“I know, Superman,” Batman said. “I’ll tell him to go easy on you, but don’t count on it.”

They worked out a few more details, before finally Batman stood.

“So, Saturday,” Superman said. “I’ll let you know how it goes with Wayne.”

Batman nodded. “And I, you, on Sunday.”

“I’ve gotta stay here for a little while,” Superman said. “A few things to take care of. I would offer to walk you out, B, but something tells me-”

“I know where I’m going,” Batman said, his gentle, genuine smile returning. “I’ll talk to you on Saturday, Boy Scout.”


	2. Superman and Bruce

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's Chapter Two cause why not. Enjoy!

Superman was standing in front of the mirror in Clark Kent’s apartment on Saturday morning, staring at his reflection. He had on his costume, as Batman had instructed him to; and was fiddling with the curl on his forehead.

He hardly knew anything about Wayne, except that he was rich and  _ devilishly handsome _ . He knew it was all fake, but he still felt sort of nervous for their ‘date.’ Batman had been so interested in conducting their little social experiment that Superman really didn’t want to mess it up. It was like a bonding moment for them, and he was always glad to partake in those.

He wasn’t really sure when he had fallen for his friend and colleague, but whenever it was, it had been  _ hard _ . It was as if he awoke one day, and suddenly all of his thoughts were occupied by the Bat. He had a hard exterior, but after ten years of working alongside each other, Superman knew that there was a lot more to the man behind the mask. 

Even though he didn’t know who that man was, he didn’t care. He  _ wanted _ him, so naturally, he jumped on the opportunity to spend more time with him, even if it meant going on a date with some stuck up billionaire as Superman first.

Wayne and he had arranged to meet at the first location, as to protect Superman’s civilian identity from him. Centennial Park was number one, and it was conveniently “closed for construction” for the day.

Superman took off from the balcony just before ten o’clock, deep in thought as he flew over his city. Metropolis was alive on Saturdays; nine to five businesses were closed, but the city’s array of exquisite boutiques, restaurants, and points of interest were always packed on weekends.

He smiled as he flew over the Daily Planet building and the neighboring alley where he and Batman had once defeated Neutron. If he really thought about it, there were various locations peppered across Metropolis and Gotham for which he had fond memories of battles he and Batman had fought together. 

They had worked as a team so many times; he had long lost track of how many losses and victories they had experienced. This particular battle stood out to him as the first time that Batman ever called Superman his best friend. 

He was so preoccupied with the fond memory, he almost cleared Centennial Park. He pulled back at the last second, and honed in on the ground level, trying to locate Wayne. 

“Do you have super-hearing, Superman?” said a velvety voice, smooth, calm, and collected. “If you do, I’m here, waiting for you on the bench closest to the trail entrance.”

Superman looked around and spotted Bruce Wayne, waving at him from his perch. He shook his hands a little, trying to expel his excess energy as he began to descend, approaching his ‘date’ with hesitance. He looked as handsome as he remembered, dressed sharply in a dark grey suit with a simple white shirt underneath. He was carrying a bag as well, a briefcase of sorts, in which Superman suspected were his other clothes.

“I’d shake your hand,” Wayne said. “However, Batman made it clear we were supposed to look like a long-standing happy couple, so how about you just hold my hand instead? You know, for practice.”

“Alright, Mr. Wayne,” Superman said, nervously accepting the invitation. They began to walk up the path, the billionaire scowling playfully.

“Mr. Wayne…” he laughed. “It’s just Bruce, Superman. What person calls their significant other ‘Mister?’”

“Fair point,” Superman said, shrugging. “I don’t do this often, fake or real. I’m sorry I’m so nervous.”

“No worries,” Bruce said, smiling at him. “Most people get nervous on dates; I guess I’ve just done it so many times it doesn’t really bother me anymore.”

They walked in awkward silence until they were deep into the trees. 

“I reviewed the schedule before you arrived,” Bruce said, stopping suddenly. “We’re supposed to photograph our hands intertwined as we walk on the trail that winds through the trees.”

Superman gestured to the flora around them. 

“Well, we’re here, and we’re holding hands.”

“That we are,” Bruce said with a grin. “Are you ready for your close up?”

“It’s… just our hands, Bruce,” he stuttered. 

“It was a joke, Supes,” Bruce said. “Relax. I’m rich and handsome, but I promise I’m not going to bite.”

They snapped the picture, then began to walk back toward the entrance to the park. Bruce had, evidently, convinced Superman to relax a little. Their conversation flowed much more smoothly than it had on the way in.

Bruce pulled out his cellphone and drew up the schedule.

“Okay,” he said. “Now we’re supposed to go over to the Metropolis Museum of Natural History, and take a ‘selfie’ in front of the Tyrannosaurus Rex’s skeleton. Typical. Batman has an odd interest in dinosaurs or something; he’s apparently got one in his lair.”

Superman rolled his eyes and chuckled.

“He does have one, in the  _ Batcave _ ,” he corrected. “But it isn’t a skeleton. He says it’s animatronic; a token from one of his many adventures. I’ve never seen it myself, but it’s probably really interesting.”

Bruce snorted. “If you say so, Superman. Bats doesn’t tell me much about his stuff. Top secret, that guy is.”

“Tell me about it,” Superman chuckled. “I’ve known him ten years, and I couldn’t tell you a single thing about his personal life.”

“Do you have a personal life?” Bruce asked. They were out of the park now, walking towards the museum. Their hands were no longer intertwined, so it didn’t really matter if someone glimpsed them. “I mean, where do you go when you’re not saving the day?”

“Well, the Watchtower for one,” Superman said, shrugging. “I’m fine with telling you about it, I know you were one of the benefactors. I also have my own  _ lair _ , so to speak. I call it the Fortress of Solitude.”

“ _ The Fortress of Solitude _ ,” Bruce laughed. “That kind of sounds depressing.”

“Well, it’s where I keep all of the mementos I have from my home world,” Superman shrugged. “The ship I came here in, for example, and a few things that I’ve collected from my  _ own _ adventures.”

“It’s probably really cool inside,” Bruce said, something bright behind his eyes. “Is it here? In Metropolis?” 

“It wouldn’t be a Fortress of  _ Solitude  _ if I went around telling everyone where it was, now would it? Only three people on this planet know where it is, and I intend on keeping it that way for now. Sorry, Bruce.”

“No, no,” the billionaire said, flashing his smile again. “I understand. You don’t need reporters knocking down your door. Does Batman know where it is?”

“Yes,” Superman said. “Him, my adoptive mother, and myself.”

“What about the rest of your league?” Bruce asked. “Will you ever tell them?”

Superman contemplated that question for a second, before shrugging.

“Likely not, to be honest,” he said. “There are certain parts of me I don’t want to share with everyone, you know? The league seems to have this ideal around me; like I’m really  _ just _ an invincible alien who lives solely to serve his adoptive planet. I think that’s why a lot of them trust me, and I wouldn’t want to ruin that by showing them too much of my humanity. That’s why my secret identity is secret as well.”

Bruce smiled fondly at him. Superman couldn’t help the warm feeling that arose in his chest, bubbled up, and burst out of him in the form of a  _ cheeky grin _ , which he returned to Bruce. 

“I like your humanity, Superman,” Bruce said, softly. “I think it makes you  _ more  _ trustworthy, if anything. I’m also, admittedly, very intrigued by your secret identity. Have we met when you weren’t Superman?”

“I’ll never tell,” Superman smirked, thinking back to all of the times they  _ had _ met. “And thank you, Bruce. That’s very kind of you.”

Bruce smiled again, before gesturing to a staircase to their right. “We’re here.”

They ascended the steps together..

Wayne made to pay for their admission, but the man behind the counter insisted that their bill had already been covered. Superman watched as the billionaire slipped a hundred dollar bill into the donation bin without saying a word or drawing attention to himself in any way.

Then, Bruce made his way toward the washroom to change. Once he had, he returned to where he had left Superman, and re-latched onto his hand. The museum was deserted, and Superman could only assume that this was also Batman’s doing.

Superman drank in Bruce’s new appearance, this one less  _ formal business man _ and more _ attractive and aware of it. _ He had on a blue three-quarter sleeve shirt, covered with a navy vest and matching pants.

“Shall we go?” Bruce asked, smiling. Superman nodded.

They found themselves visiting various other exhibits on their way to the floor with the dinosaurs, laughing and chatting as they looked at life-size dioramas and read aloud informational plaques. 

They had a particularly good time in the planetary science wing, reading a plaque about Krypton with an extraordinarily limited explanation:

_ Krypton: Birth Planet of Superman _

“Well, that really does my planet justice,” he had joked after Bruce read it aloud. He recognized the small model enclosed in the case as one designed by Dr. Emil Hamilton, while they worked together at STAR Labs. 

As they left that wing and made their way toward the dinosaurs, Superman found himself telling Bruce most of what he knew about his home world; his parents, it’s destruction, and Brainiac’s involvement. He talked about the red sun and Krypton’s sister planet Argo, and how he had found his cousin Kara and brought her to Earth.

When they reached the T-Rex, he was almost disappointed. It had felt good to talk to someone about his life; to share this information with someone other than his mother. He was finding that Bruce was charming and easy to talk to, and that he was enjoying his company.

However, he couldn’t help but think about Batman the entire time as well. How much he wished he was sharing these things with him instead of Bruce, so that he could hear his snarky and comical remarks. How much he wished that he could be this open with Batman without compromising his security with the rest of the league; not that Batman would ever tell, necessarily, but it seemed nothing was ever private when it was said on the Watchtower. Hence, their experiment.

Superman felt torn as they snapped their photo; the smile on his face the most genuine it had been with anyone other than Batman. He felt warm and fuzzy around Bruce, the same way he often felt around Batman. 

“Okay,” Bruce said, pulling out his phone. “What’s next?”

Superman waited while Bruce scrolled through the timetable. 

“We’re supposed to catch the Gotham Queen at two,” Bruce said finally. “It’s just after noon. Why don’t we grab some lunch on the way?”

“I’d love to,” Superman said. “But I shouldn’t really...I mean… I don’t like to go to restaurants as-”

“It’s okay, Boy Scout,” Bruce chuckled. “Batman didn’t want you to go in anyway. We can get take out.”

Superman couldn’t help but chuckle. “Did you know he calls me that?”

“Yeah,” Bruce said, smiling. “I got it from him. Are you fine with carrying me? There’s a really good gourmet sandwich shop not too far from the pier where the Queen docks. It has outdoor seating too, so no reason for you to go inside at all.”

Superman smiled warmly at him.

“I can carry you. That sounds good.”

They walked a few blocks until they found an abandoned alley. They stepped out of sight, and Superman crouched so that Bruce could get on his back. Once the billionaire was settled, holding firmly around his neck, they took off toward Gotham. 

Superman had never shared this with anyone; usually if he was carrying someone, it was for the express purpose of rescuing them. As of late, he rarely ever carried anyone from the league. Batman had adapted his own costume and technology so that he was capable of solo flight; and everyone else seemed to have designated a different hero as their mode of transport.

It felt nice, sharing the shine of the sun on the harbor with someone.

Batman flashed through his mind, but Superman decided that maybe it was better that this was with Bruce. He was certain the view never would have inspired the small gasp that had sent shivers down his spine from  _ Batman _ , the man unphased by pretty much everything.

“Gorgeous,” Bruce smiled behind him. Superman smiled too.

“I know,” he said. “I’ve always wanted to show this to someone. Everyone favors the sunrise and sunset, but sometimes high-noon can be just as beautiful.”

“I wasn’t talking about the view, Superman,” Bruce said, cheekily.

As he blushed furiously, Superman began descending toward the pier. They touched down just up the road from the shop.

“Do you like Italian?” Bruce asked as he climbed off of his back. “They make a fantastic Muffuletta.”

“I have no idea what that is,” Superman laughed. “But it sounds great.”

Bruce chuckled as he made his way toward the shop. Superman decided to find them a place to sit, and chose a table close to the fence that separated the shoreline street from the water. It had a nice view, and was tucked out of the way enough that nobody would see them from the sidewalk. 

He looked up at the clear sky above the water, his mind racing. He realized that, much to his surprise, he was having a  _ really _ good time with Bruce. He wasn’t anything like Batman made him out to be; he was charming, generous, and  _ kind _ . Superman could not find a hint of the arrogance that everyone seemed to think he had. 

Bruce reminded him a little of Batman. Everyone in the league knew Batman for what he allowed himself to show only; gruff and bossy and  _ totally _ unyielding. He was a fierce leader, and valued respect, loyalty, and hard work.

But Superman had seen beneath the gruff outer layer; he’d seen the smirks and smiles and jokes; he’d seen the way he cared intensely for the safety of his team. He’d seen that, despite his facade, he valued comradery and  _ family _ .  _ Those  _ were the things about Batman that had made him fall in love with him, and those were what he was holding onto as he tried to navigate his potential feelings for Bruce. 

They had so much  _ history _ , and as Bruce approached him with their sandwiches, wearing another tightly-fitted and surely expensive outfit and flashing flirtatious smiles at other men and women around him, it struck Superman that while he admired Bruce and all the effort he had put into their day, he wasn’t willing to give up his and Batman’s history for what likely would just be a fling. 

After all, there had to be some merit to the man’s playboy reputation. Given his supposed prowess, it proved likely that Bruce would hang onto him until someone shinier came along, then would dispose of him.

He hated himself a little for thinking that as Bruce put down the food with a warm, handsome smile. 

They allowed themselves a little over an hour to eat and chat, and Superman once again found himself sinking into a comfortable banter with Bruce. They took photos of their food, and a selfie of the two of them with the harbor in the background. Then, when it was quarter to two, the pair rose and made their way to the pier.

Nobody else was aboard the Queen as it sailed around the island; at this point, it wasn’t a surprise. Superman and Bruce stood at the very back of the boat for most of the ride, watching the wake split evenly behind them as they went. They took several photos in different spots, making sure to not only secure the railing photo that Batman had requested, but throwing in a few of their own poses as well.

The cruise flew by; the boat returning to the pier just after dinner time. A second and late date was scheduled for them in a private room at Bessolo’s in Metropolis, but neither Bruce nor Superman felt an inclination to get another full meal.

“A colleague of mine says they have excellent apple pie, though,” Bruce shrugged as they walked along the edge of the harbor. “Coffee and a slice to end the night?”

“Sounds good,” Superman replied.

They were flying over the harbor when the sun set, Bruce privy to another of Superman’s fabulous views as they made their way toward the restaurant.

“Still gorgeous,” Bruce said, smiling into Superman’s ear, and the hero found that he didn’t think twice when the billionaire buried his chin into his shoulder.

Before they sat down to order, Bruce disappeared inside to make one final wardrobe change. He returned and minutes later they were sipping coffee and waiting for their desserts at a secluded corner table.

“So I’m supposed to call you on Tuesday night?” Bruce said, taking a drink.

“If you wouldn’t mind,” Superman answered, dumping several packs of sugar into his cup.

“Make your coffee like that all night, and I don’t know if I’ll be able to,” Bruce chuckled, grimacing and pointedly sniffing and sighing contentedly at his own black cup. 

The pie was delicious, as promised, and all too soon Bruce was calling his butler and saying good night to Superman.

“I didn’t expect for today to go so well,” Superman said. “I’d just heard a lot about you, I guess, but not all of it’s true, is it?”

“Not all of it,” Bruce said, shrugging. “I keep up the ditzy image because that’s what Gotham wants me to be… their precious playboy prince.”

“Well it’s nice to know that you’re more than that, Bruce,” Superman said, smiling gently. “I had a really good time today.”

“Me too,” Bruce said. He hesitated when he saw that Superman had extended a hand with something in it. A small piece of paper.

“My number,” he said. “For when you call on Tuesday.”

“Oh,” Bruce said. “Right. Okay. We’re supposed to take one more photo.”

He stepped forward, held up his phone and pressed his lips to Superman’s cheek. 

A black limousine pulled up behind Bruce, and Superman gestured awkwardly to it.

“Good night, Bruce,” he said, softly. “Thank you for everything.”

“Anytime, Boy Scout,” Bruce said as his butler opened the door to the car. “Good night.”

Superman watched Bruce drive away, then took off into the night. He had originally planned on going home right away, but he found that as the cool evening air raced past his face his mind began to wander.

He thought about his day with Bruce; about Batman, and his feelings for the dark knight. He thought about the experiment they were conducting, and how it was ironic that while they were trying to find info about the league, Superman was simultaneously and inadvertently finding out more about his own feelings. He thought about what it all meant, and came to a decision.

He still had the following day. The date with Batman, as himself and not Superman. He would see how it felt to interact with the person he’d loved for years when he wasn’t wearing a mask.

He wished he could have spent today as himself. If he had, he could be certain where he stood with the billionaire; perhaps their interactions would wipe the phrase “pretending Superman is another notch on his belt” from his focus.

Because really and truthfully, that was what was lingering in the back of his mind. Batman had said it and meant it, and he was afraid that Bruce had only been so kind and caring because he  _ wanted _ that notch; that he only wanted to woo Superman so that he could say he had dated the most powerful being on the planet. 

Even though all of him screamed that that  _ wasn’t  _ how Bruce felt, he couldn’t shake the fear, especially knowing that Batman would  _ never _ treat him like that. 

Batman didn’t put notches in his belt; it was too full of weapons and gadgets for that. Maybe too full for anyone at all. However, Superman hoped that, if he ever got the courage to tell his friend how he felt, that Batman would make room for him.

When he finally arrived back in his apartment, Superman dialed Batman’s private number. After two rings, a gruff voice answered.

“Hey, B,” he sighed. “I’m back from my day with Wayne.”

“And?” Batman asked. “Did you get everything we needed?”

“Yes,” Superman said. “I did.”

“Did you have a good time?” Batman asked. Superman frowned; he hadn’t expected the other hero to be interested in how he  _ felt _ about the date, just more so whether or not it had been a material success.

“Actually, yes,” Superman said. “He’s not as bad as you think, Batman. He might take all those people to bed, but he’s not an airhead, and he’s definitely not arrogant about it.”

“Good,” Batman said. “I’m glad you enjoyed yourself, I guess. I’ll check in tomorrow evening, after my own date-day.”

“Good luck with Clark,” Superman said. “I hope you have a good time as well.”

“Thank you,” Batman said. “Good night, Superman.”

“Good night, B.”

Superman hung up the phone and stripped his uniform. After a quick shower and a mug of warm milk, Clark Kent laid down in bed, staring up at the ceiling. 

Thoughts of Bruce and Batman, ferry boats and apple pie occupied his mind as he considered again how to deal with his own emotions. He weighed the pros and cons of pursuing anything with Wayne, but was still held back by the history he shared with Batman. Just before he fell asleep, he came to the conclusion that, provided the date went well, Clark would ask Batman if they could see each other again.

That would at least be a place to start.


	3. Batman and Clark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Batman and Clark go on their date.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter three! Thank you to those who commented. I really really appreciate hearing from you. Your enthusiasm makes this worthwhile.

Alfred walked into Batman’s room at eight in the morning on Sunday, pulling open the blinds and setting down a large mug of black coffee on the bedside table.

“Good morning, sir,” the butler said, stepping to the wardrobe and beginning to ready a suit and tie.

“Mmmhhmm,” Batman mumbled, sitting up and rubbing the sleep from his unmasked eyes. “No suit, Alfred. I’m out as the Bat today.”

“In the daylight?” Alfred asked, raising one eyebrow. “I thought Batman was more of a night owl.”

“I make certain exceptions,” Batman said, throwing the sheets wildly off of his body and draining the cup of coffee. “Though I am starting to regret deciding to do this.”

“And why is that, sir?” Alfred asked, bringing the man’s robe to him and holding it up. “I thought your outing with Mister Kent was for  _ scientific _ purposes?”

“It is,” Batman said. “But I just have a feeling today is going to  _ drag _ in comparison to my outing with Superman yesterday.”

“I see,” Alfred said. “And that outing has you feeling…?”

“Alfred,” Batman scowled. “When have I ever willingly talked about my feelings?”

“Never, sir,” his butler retorted. “And I am not asking you to now either, I am demanding it of you.”

Batman’s eyes narrowed at the older man.

“It has me feeling...not great, actually,” he confessed, running a hand through his hair. “I was certain that Superman would fall for my alter ego; I let myself be  _ myself _ just to have a chance at it. And don’t get me wrong, there were times when I felt like maybe he was interested, but he also seemed distracted.”

“Perhaps he was, sir,” Alfred said, solemnly. “You said yourself that this endeavor was primarily for the purpose of the experiment. Perhaps Superman’s interest has already been piqued by another.”

“That’s the problem, Al,” Batman said. “I think it has been, and it’s not me.”

“Well, might today may be beneficial then?” Alfred suggested, looking solemnly at his surrogate son.

“I doubt it, but thanks,” Batman sighed. “I have to be Batman today, I can’t let loose as much as I could yesterday.”

Alfred nodded, retrieved the empty coffee mug and made for the door.

“I’ll have breakfast waiting, sir,” he said, then disappeared.

Batman had a shower, dressed in his costume minus the cape and cowl, then made his way to breakfast with his butler. They sat in relative silence, the boys still asleep, until Batman was almost done his food. Then Alfred spoke.

“Perhaps, Master Bruce,” he said, hesitating for a moment. “Perhaps Superman simply fears that you are emotionally unavailable or uninterested, given your reputation. I suggest that you  _ tell him how you feel _ . Only then can you know whether or not he is interested.”

“I can’t tell him like this though,” Batman said, gesturing to his outfit. “I have to protect my identity.”

“Maybe not,” Alfred nodded. “However, he did provide you with his phone number for Tuesday’s conversation, correct? Might I suggest that then be the time you ask to see him again?”

Batman contemplated this for a few minutes in silence, before he glanced at his watch and saw it was time for him to go. 

“Thanks for breakfast, Al,” he said, pulling the cowl over his face and attaching his cape. “I’ll talk with you tonight.”

“I might as well drive you to the outskirts,” Alfred said, rising as well. “Considering I will be secretly carting you and Mister Kent around all day anyway.”

Batman had arranged for Clark to come to Gotham, the pair set to meet on his end of the Amerigold Columbus Bridge. 

Alfred dropped him off just inside the city. From there, Batman scaled the side of a nearby building to gain enough height to take off with the glider. Once he was in the air, he steered himself toward the towering bridge and began to take in the sights of his city.

Sunday was a slower day in Gotham; everything in the financial district was closed, including all of the Wayne Enterprises buildings. Certain shops remained open, however it seemed that despite the beautiful sunny weather, not many people were out and about.

Batman gazed somewhat fondly over his home, the city he had been born and raised in. He had a love-hate relationship with it; it was, afterall, where he had lost everything as a child, the night his parents died. But now, it was also the place in which he had gained many things too. His Robins, for one, as well as a friendship with Superman that had slowly developed over a period of more than ten years.

He smiled at the thought of his big blue partner in crime-fighting, reminiscing about the day prior. He was hopeful that he might enjoy his day with Clark, but he seriously doubted it could ever compare to the precious time he had spent with Superman.

His thoughts were racing as he reached the bridge. He angled downward, the wind carrying him gently down until he stumbled on metal beams, catching himself and gaining his balance.

It felt odd, being in public as Batman during the day, but he swallowed the uneasy feeling as he scanned the bridge in search of Clark Kent.

It only took him a few moments to spot the man; tall, broad, fairly handsome behind his thick glasses, and wearing over-sized clothes. Batman noticed that he was carrying a briefcase, and understood that the bag likely contained the man’s alternate outfits.

“Kent!” He yelled down, watching in slight amusement as the reporter stumbled and looked around frantically. Finally, their eyes met and Batman dropped a few beams lower in order to get closer to him.

The closer he got, the more attractive he realized Clark was. He had chiseled cheekbones, and an infuriatingly contagious smile. His eyes were an electric blue, deep and soulful. He couldn’t help but feel that he looked incredibly familiar, in a more intimate way than a man he had only met once or twice. 

He shook the feeling and reached out a hand, offering to pull Clark up onto the beam. He accepted, and Batman found that his companion was slightly lighter than he anticipated as he helped him to a sitting position. They were both on the beam now, their feet dangling almost childishly over the water below them. 

The morning breeze was warm and gentle. It shook Batman’s cape and combed through Kent’s hair as they sat in silence for a few moments. Finally, Clark spoke.

“It’s really an honor to meet you, Batman,” he said, extending a hand. Batman looked down hesitantly at the man’s offering, and, remembering their mission, accepted it. However, he didn’t let go.

“I’m sorry, Kent,” he grumbled. “I know it’s awkward, but we have to get used to this feeling if the photos are going to look authentic.”

“I know, Batman, it’s okay,” Clark smiled gently. “And please, call me Clark.”

They sat in silence for a few more minutes, and he couldn’t help but notice that Clark almost looked disappointed. Batman was normally cold, but something about this man’s sadness had him feeling uncomfortable; he wanted to make it go away, so he sparked up a conversation.

“So, Superman tells me you’re a reporter for the Planet,” he said, still gruffly, but trying to sound interested in this man’s life.

“Yes,” Clark said, looking up. “I have been for a while now. It’s kind of my passion.”

“What about it do you like?” Batman asked. He was genuinely curious. He had interacted with enough reporters to know that not all of them were obnoxious assholes, but even those that weren’t took a lot of flack for just doing their job. Clark did not seem to be the former, but likely had experience with the latter.

“I like being able to tell people the truth,” Clark said. “There’s always so much deceit in the world; it almost feels like I’m helping people by finding and publishing the facts.”

Batman nodded, not really sure how to respond.

“I guess I’m the Superman of the media,” Clark joked, looking out over the water, and clearing his throat awkwardly. “Doesn’t being up here make you nervous?”

Batman’s mind flashed to Superman when Clark mentioned his name, but quickly returned to the conversation at hand.

“Not really,” he answered honestly. “Although, I am used to swinging from building to building, so there’s that too.”

Clark chuckled. “Very true. I honestly thought, once you pulled me up here, that I wouldn’t like it. It’s peaceful though. We should take the picture. Knowing me, I’ll forget.”

“Right,” Batman said, as Clark reached into his pocket to grab his phone. He thought back to his schedule and remembered he had planned to take a photo of their legs over the water, hands intertwined between their knees.

“Should we hook feet too?” Clark asked, blushing slightly. “I mean, it would probably make for a more convincing photo, the more we’re intertwined.”

Batman nodded, and they moved. Clark tried to wrap his knee sort of around Bruce’s calf, but both men had too many muscles, coupled with the fact that there were small fins protruding from Batman’s boots.

Clark ended up slipping dangerously close to the edge of the beam in their struggle, and as he scooted back in place, both of them burst out laughing at the awkwardness of the entire situation.

“Nevermind,” Clark said. “I’m not dying for a photo with you, Batman, not literally.”

They were still smiling broadly when they rejoined hands and Clark snapped the picture.

“Okay,” Clark said. “I have to admit that now that I’ve almost fallen off, I’d like to get down from this beam.”

Batman smiled gently and nodded, to which Clark’s eyes lit up. He seemed genuinely happy to be spending time with Batman, especially now that the initial tension was easing. He fearlessly hooked his arms around Batman’s neck, moving so that he was secure. 

Batman removed his grapple gun, and shot it at one of the higher beams. He wrapped an arm around Clark as well as he slowly lowered them both back to the safety of the pavement.

Once they were firmly on their feet, Clark bounced on his toes and smiled widely at the hero, swinging his briefcase back and forth. “Where to next, Batman?”

“Before lunch, I’ve arranged for us to go over to Madame Soleil’s Wax Museum, if that’s okay with you.”

“Ooh,” Clark said, genuine enthusiasm dripping from his voice. “I’ve heard about that place; a friend of mine at the Planet covered its opening a few years ago. I’ve always meant to go over there, but never have.”

Batman nodded. “Perfect. I’ll call us a car.”

He pressed a button on the side of his utility belt, and not two minutes later a deep blue car pulled up.

Batman opened one of the back doors and gestured for Clark to climb in first. The car was spacious, two cushioned benches facing one another replacing standard seats. The driver was not visible to either of them, so as not to expose that Bruce Wayne’s butler had been hired to drive Batman around.

“Who is…?” Clark asked, looking with confusion at the gray panel blocking their view of the front.

“I prepaid a driver,” Batman growled. “No sense waiting for cabs all day.”

The ride to Madame’s was pleasant. Batman and Clark spoke about what types of celebrities were featured at the museum, and mused that they would likely see a Justice League exhibit there. Clark had  _ clapped _ with delight, and vowed that--even though it wasn’t on Batman’s itinerary--he  _ would _ be taking a photo of him with his wax double. 

Batman normally would have protested, but something about the shine in Clark’s eyes made him agree.

Clark rushed to try and pay for their entry fee as soon as they arrived, but Batman instructed him to head to the bathroom and change first. Batman had bought out the place for the afternoon, and so no admission fees were required. Nevertheless, he slipped a hundred dollar bill into the donation box on his way past the counter.

Clark returned from the washroom minutes later, having changed from his blue suit and tie into something a little more casual. Batman thought he looked handsome, albeit a little ridiculous in his  _ plaid button down _ . He could see the Kansas in him now, the part of the reporter that Superman always seemed to poke fun at.

“Nice flannel,” Batman smirked as he came back up to him. 

“Don’t diss the flannel,” Clark laughed. He didn’t hesitate at all, taking Batman’s gloved hand in his own as they walked toward the entrance gate. “Did you pay for the tickets?”

“I had prepaid,” Batman said. “We have the place to ourselves..”

“I’ll leave a donation on the way out,” Clark said, beaming.

“Already done,” Batman growled, and Clark looked surprised.The attendant at the gate pressed a few buttons, and it unlocked for them to walk through.

The first room they came to was very brightly colored, and Clark laughed as he realized it was dedicated to famous figures from children’s television. Both of them seemed rather uninterested in most of the cartoon characters, until they came across a wax figure of  _ The Gray Ghost _ . 

Clark stopped in his tracks, holding up a hand to Batman’s chest.

“I  _ loved _ that show as a child,” he said, grinning broadly. “Pa would come in from the barn to watch it with me just before dinner; then I’d go out and help him after we ate. No matter how busy he was, he always came in for that.”

Batman’s disgust at the other characters dissipated as his gaze also fell on his favorite childhood hero.

“I loved it too,” he smiled. “I also used to watch it with my Dad, but it aired in Gotham just before my bedtime. Same thing, no matter how busy he was, he always made time for Gray Ghost.”

“We have to get a picture then,” Clark smiled, rubbing his hands together cheesily and reaching for his phone.

They did, pressed up against the display of the wax figure like they were both young boys again. They left the room laughing and chatting about their favorite episodes.

After several rooms of celebrities, including musicians, actors, and internet personalities that Batman had never even heard of, they finally reached the room home to the wax versions of the founding JLA members.

J’onn J’onzz was closest to the entrance, his wax counterpart standing stoically with his arms crossed. Green Lantern was beside him, his ring-hand held up in defense. Diana was next to him, her wrists crossed in front of her chest and showing off her powerful bracers. 

Batman stopped to stare at the figure in the middle as Clark made his way to the far side, laughing heartily at Flash’s figure mid stride, and Aquaman’s bare--and unrealistically hairy-- chest. He made his way back to the middle as well, and they met, standing and staring at the two remaining figures.

“Something is wrong with Superman,” Batman said, quietly. “Something’s not quite right.”

“The curl,” Clark murmured back. “They have everything really accurate, except they missed Superman's signature curl. Nobody in Metropolis would make that mistake.”

Batman nodded, thinking to the day before and how perfect that curl had been. He had always found it adorable, and was almost disappointed that Madame Soleil had somehow missed it.

He was broken from his daydream by Clark, clearing his throat. He was holding up his phone, ready to snap a picture of Batman with Wax Batman. He matched the stern expression on his counterpart’s face perfectly, and his chest tingled when he heard Clark laugh.

That happened a few more times as they made their way through the rest of the museum. They snapped another picture for the experiment while standing in front of the wax version of the Joker, courtesy of the Gotham’s Villains exhibit. There, Clark made Batman pretend to punch the wax figure out, before they snapped a selfie.

Batman almost wished he hadn’t seen the Superman figure as they finished with their tour. As much as he was enjoying Clark’s company, he couldn’t help but wonder how it would feel to do this with Superman, as he had yesterday. Clark and he got along well, but there had been something about the time they spent together yesterday that made Batman swell with warmth.

He shoved down the longing feeling as he and Clark sat behind a Mexican restaurant two doors down from the museum, chatting happily about their favorite foods and shoveling the cantina’s famous enchiladas into their mouths. They were too busy chatting to remember their picture.

After lunch, they were booked into a tour at Wayne Animal Sanctuary.

“Bruce said the buses usually don’t run on Sundays,” Batman said as they climbed into the blue car once again. “But he swung it so that I could include it on the schedule.”

“I love animals,” Clark said, smiling. “We had a dog back on the farm in Kansas. Shelby was the very definition of man’s best friend. I’ve wanted to get a dog since I moved to Metropolis, but I haven’t ever gotten around to it.”

“I never really had many animals around me when I was younger,” Batman said. “Except for the bats in our house and now in my cave, I never interacted with them a lot.”

“Is that why you call yourself Batman?” Clark asked. “I’ve always kind of wondered where that came from.”

“Maybe it had something to do with it,” Batman said, biting down on several possible answers. He ultimately decided to just go with the truth. “Okay, so when I was designing my costume, I wanted something intimidating; something that would strike fear into criminals. Even though I was exposed to bats as a young child, I was terrified of them. Thus, I adopted a bat inspired look for my costume. The name came after, I didn’t come up with that myself.”

“Something tells me that if you had, it would have been a lot cooler than  _ Batman _ ,” Clark chuckled. Batman shot him a glare, and Clark visibly cringed. “Man, I’ve heard a lot about that look, but I gotta say, it’s worse in person.”

Batman’s face softened at this. He reached out and touched Clark’s shoulder.

“Sorry,” he said. “Force of habit. It just sort of happens when I get annoyed or defensive.”

“I was just teasing you, Batman,” Clark said, smiling softly again. “I think your name is bad ass. So are your costume and all of your bat-inspired gadgets. Let’s be real, you just have  _bad ass_ written all over you.”

“Damn straight,” Batman grumbled, turning toward the window. 

Moments later, the car pulled up outside of the Animal Sanctuary. Batman went to the entrance desk to speak with the attendant about their personal tour, while Clark ducked into the washroom to change his outfit again.

He came back wearing another flannel, this time in a different color and buffalo check instead of plaid. Batman couldn’t help but smile a little at this development, and Clark rolled his eyes before he even had the chance to comment.

“Yeah, yeah,” he said. “Nice flannel.”

“I mean it, Clark,” Batman said. “It’s nice. It suits you.”

The reporter smiled at him. Another attendant approached and they were led away through the back of the building and toward a bay, where several large off road vehicles were parked.

“What even is this place, exactly?” Clark asked as they climbed into the back of a jeep. “I didn’t know this was here.”

“It’s a division of the Wayne Foundation, I think,” Batman said. “Bruce sort of adopted a kid a long time ago. The kid was the son of two circus performers, and so he had spent a lot of time around animals. He loved them so much that Bruce rescued a bunch of them and brought them to Gotham.”

“That’s...actually really sweet,” Clark said, turning away from Batman for a minute. “I didn’t realize he had a son.”

“Four sons, actually,” Batman said. “I don’t know if you know, but Wayne was orphaned as a child, so he has an inclination toward taking in other parent-less children. Only one of them is actually his, biologically.”

“Hm,” Clark said, smiling slightly. “Do you know how old they are?”

Batman paused for a second, then sighed.

“No, sorry,” he said. “I don’t even really know their names. He’s got a very public life, for the most part, but he keeps his family to himself.”

“Do you have any kids?” Clark asked, suddenly. “I mean, you work with Robin, right?”

Batman chuckled.

“I do work with Robin,” he answered. “But I would hardly call him a child.”

Clark flushed.

“Sorry,” he said. “That was kind of personal.”

“No,” Batman said. “Don’t apologize. We’re coming up on a few elephants here, by the looks of it.”

Their conversation shifted abruptly from Batman and Bruce Wayne’s personal life to the animals they were seeing. Clark looked like a child himself again, watching stereotypically fierce predators relax and roam around their man-made but naturally inspired habitats. 

Batman found his thoughts drifting away from the animals, and more toward Clark and Superman.

He had had such an amazing time with Superman the day before, but now he was finding that he actually very much enjoyed Clark’s company as well. Clark seemed to really be enjoying himself too, but Batman knew that he must have noticed a bit of distance between them. 

He found it easy to talk to Clark, almost like they shared a familiarity that he couldn’t quite place. It reminded him of how he felt with Superman, but their relationship made much more sense to Batman, given the history the two of them shared with each other. 

He was hesitant to continue opening up to Clark, as nice as it felt. He couldn’t explain it-- he felt this sort of trust with him; but he also knew that the man was a journalist through and through. He had, in retrospect, already revealed enough about himself to make a convincing and interesting article, and realized that he probably should tone it back.

And yet, he found himself laughing along with Clark as his mind came back to the present, watching a group of flamingos parade around a shallow pond, and snapping a selfie with them for the experiment.

“Did you know,” he said, turning to Clark. “That a flock of flamingos is sometimes called a  _ flamboyance _ ?”

Clark laughed at that. “Appropriate, I guess, given that they’re very bright and colorful. Quite the contrast next to you,  _ Dark Knight. _ ”

It was just before dinner time when they exited the jeep, thanking their driver profusely and chatting with a few of the staff on their way to the car. They got into the back, and Batman smiled at Clark.

“I figured we could go over to Metropolis for food,” he said. “You’re the one who’s from there, do you know a good place?”

“Bessolo’s is pretty good,” Clark said. Batman smiled, thinking of the pie from the night before.

“You don’t happen to like apple pie, do you?” he asked, cheekily. “Bruce told me that they have the best.”

“I  _ love _ apple pie,” Clark said, smiling widely. “And beef bourguignon, of which they also have the best.”

“Hm,” Batman said, smiling lightly and thinking of Superman. “Superman loves that stuff too,  _ and _ apple pie.”

Clark blushed slightly.

“Yeah,” he said. “He’s the one who told me about it, actually. He loves Bessolo’s.”

“Good to know,” Batman said. “If he ever asks me to pick up dinner again, I’ll know where to go.”

“Are you and he good friends?” Clark asked, fiddling with his thumbs. “He doesn’t talk to me about you that often, probably because you’re a pretty private guy.”

“Yes,” Batman said, nodding. “We are good friends, and yes, I am a pretty private guy.”

“I guess I shouldn’t be asking all of these questions then,” Clark said. He blushed, but Batman could see a definitive smile behind the fluster. “I’m sorry, I just keep losing my head and blurting stuff out.”

Batman could see a glimpse of the bumbling personality that Superman had described many times, and he found it kind of endearing. Although, now he found himself imagining an  _ actual _ date to Bessolo’s with Superman, instead of just pie in a secluded room. He had to shove down the warm feeling in his gut again.

Batman changed the conversation to one of Clark’s latest stories, and his chatter about new sources and Perry’s torturous assignments filled the rest of the car ride to the restaurant. As soon as they stepped inside, a waiter showed them to a private table in the back corner, and Clark stepped away to change once more.

He came back wearing a more formal suit, and Batman couldn’t help but blush when he thought about how handsome he looked. The suit complemented the reporter’s eyes, and Batman found himself picturing his blue-eyed teammate in it as well. The warm feeling was in his stomach again, but this time he chose not to suppress it as he ordered two portions of beef bourguignon, two glasses of sparkling wine, and two slices of pie.

When the meal was coming to an end, Batman realized he had spent most of it daydreaming about Superman, instead of focusing on the man in front of him. He felt guilty, especially when Clark finished the night by dropping a bit of an unexpected bombshell on him.

“I like you, Batman,” he said, shyly. “I  _ really  _ had a good time today, and if you’re feeling up for it, I’d like to do this again. Legitimately this time, instead of planned and executed like one of your missions.”

Batman was very taken aback. He had known the reporter was having a good time, and he had enjoyed himself as well, but he couldn’t help but think about Superman. He could see himself getting along with Clark and maybe having a fling with him, but he was also certain that his residual feelings for Superman would mean that he could never fully commit to him.

That’s how he decided to let the sweet reporter down easily.

“Clark,” he said. “I had a really good time today, and I’m glad that you did too, and as much as I can admit that I’d be interested to see where this could go, the truth is, you don’t really know that much about me...and I actually already have feelings for somebody else. I’m really...really sorry.”

Clark’s face had fallen significantly, and the disappointment in those blue eyes squashed the warm feeling in his chest. He felt guilty, but he also knew that he couldn’t lead Clark on.

“I understand,” he said. “I’m sorry to have put you in that position.”

“It’s okay, really,” Batman said, clearing his throat awkwardly. “I, uh, I can call the car to bring you home, if you’d like.”

“Oh, that’s okay,” Clark said. “It’s a beautiful evening, and not too late. I can walk the few blocks home.”

Clark pushed his empty pie plate forward, and Batman felt another surge of guilt in his chest. He tucked several hundreds into the checkbook, then followed Clark out of the restaurant.

“We...we don’t have to take the last photo, if you don’t want to,” Batman said. Clark shook his head.

“No,” he said, blushing. “It’s okay.”

He pulled out his phone, and Batman stepped toward him. Slowly, he pressed his lips to Clark’s cheek and listened as the phone clicked.

“Good night, Batman,” Clark said.

“Good night, Clark,” he returned.

He watched as Clark walked up the sidewalk toward the center of the city, and waited just under ten minutes for Alfred to arrive. As soon as he was in the car, he called Superman on his personal phone.

“Hello?” Superman answered. His voice sounded slightly higher and more hoarse than normal, and Batman could hear the wind whipping past the microphone.

“Hey, Boy Scout,” he said. “I just got finished with Kent. Everything went well.”

“Great,” Superman said, quietly. “Talk tomorrow?”

“Talk tomorrow,” Batman said, confused. “You okay?”

“Just fine, B,” he said again. “Good night.”

“Good night.”


	4. Working Through It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clark and Bruce reflect on the events of the weekend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Fourrrrr
> 
> THANK YOU for commenting. I love reading them. I'm so happy you are enjoying this.

Clark knew he shouldn’t be so disappointed.

He had had a really good time with Batman, that was true. When they had fallen into conversation so easily near the beginning, Clark really thought that maybe they would connect. He could also tell, however, that the hero was distracted most of the day.

Near the end, he had figured that they hadn’t connected to quite the extent he had hoped, but he had also promised himself he would tell Batman how he felt. So, he went for it, and he felt slightly humiliated.

Of course Batman had feelings for someone else. Clark really knew nothing about his personal life; for all he knew, the man behind the mask could be married. He’d managed to keep his civilian identity completely secret from Superman for ten years, who knew what else he had left out of their friendship?

At least Batman had been kind enough to tell him that he wasn’t emotionally available. It would have been worse if he had led him on, or just given him some bullshit excuse.

Clark decided that Superman would also take the high road when it came to Bruce Wayne.

He would not contact him because, despite his initial hesitation and Batman’s rejection, he truly was not emotionally available either. Nursing a broken heart was not a good position to be in when entering a new relationship.

He had tried his best to sound normal on his phone call with Batman, and desperately hoped that he had succeeded. Superman could not be hurt by this, or it would give too much away. All Clark had to do was figure out how he was going to function around Batman the following few days.

He laid awake almost all night dreading the following day, until finally he decided that the solution was simple.

He’d just avoid Batman for a day or two, until it hopefully didn’t hurt so much.

\-----

“And I just…had to tell him no, Alfred,” Bruce was saying for the fifth time that night.. He had returned to the manor now, and had changed out of the costume and into his plush robe and pajama bottoms. He and his butler were sharing their fourth pot of tea in the study, while his sons slept somewhere in the depths of the manor’s many corridors.

“You did the right thing, Master Bruce,” Alfred said solemnly. “Even if it hurt him, I’m sure that it hurt him less than if you had led him on, only to later break his heart.”

Bruce slung forward, laying his head in his hands and groaning.

“But what if Superman doesn’t have feelings for me?” Bruce asked, pulling at the skin under his eyes. “What if I wasted what could have been a perfectly good relationship with Clark, for someone who doesn’t return my feelings?”

“You’ll just have to wait until Tuesday evening, Master Bruce,” Alfred said, smiling gently. “When you call Superman and tell him how you feel.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he said. “I guess. But how am I going to face him tomorrow, Al? Now that I rejected his friend? He’ll probably think I’m such an asshole.”

“He might, but does that matter? Don’t you want him to be interested in Bruce, not Batman?”

“I don’t even know anymore, Alfred,” he said. “This is all so confusing.”

“It seems quite so, sir,” Alfred said. “Might I suggest you turn in for the night? Perhaps a good night’s sleep will help you sort your thoughts.”

“I suppose,” Bruce mumbled. 

They bid each other good night, and retired to their respective rooms. 

Bruce lay awake for a good portion of the night, wondering how he would face Superman. Eventually, he decided that the answer was clear.

He’d just avoid Superman for a day or two, until it wasn’t so confusing anymore.

\-----

Superman decided to stay away from the Watchtower the following evening, opting rather to fly around Metropolis and search for menial tasks that he could write off as minor emergencies.

He was scowling to himself as he pulled the  _ second  _ cat of the night from a tree; recognizing that he likely would have been given a more large scale mission if he could just swallow his pride and go to see J’onn and Batman.

But every time he thought about it, he felt a returning surge of disappointment and heartache at Batman’s rejection, and remembered that it was likely best he stayed away.

It didn’t matter all that much, in the end, because just as he was finishing attending to a minor traffic accident, his comlink went off and Batman was on the other line.

“Superman,” he said gruffly. “What’s your twenty?”

“I’m in Metropolis,” he returned, trying to hide any sort of frustration or sadness in his voice. “I keep meaning to come up, but I also keep hearing citizens in distress, and you know me.”

“I know,” Batman huffed. “And we were supposed to talk about the experiment this evening, but I understand. Why don’t you call my personal line when you head home for the night? J’onn doesn’t have much for any of us, so don’t worry about checking in.”

“Okay,” Superman said, slightly relieved that he had an excuse  _ not _ to go to the Watchtower, but also concerned about their later phone call. He was really hoping that Batman wouldn’t talk about rejecting Clark.

“Okay…” Batman said. “I’ll talk to you later then.”

Superman flew around the city for a few more hours, stopping occasionally to help with minor incidents. At one point, he heard the owner of a small convenience store near the Planet pleading with another man; and when he arrived on scene, he realized that he was being robbed. Of course, Superman’s presence put a stop to that, and as he tied his wrists and dropped him on the steps of the Metropolis PD, he felt that he had at least done  _ one  _ thing actually worthwhile.

He decided that was a good time to call it a night, and flew back to the balcony of Clark Kent’s apartment. He went inside, stripped, showered, and made himself a cup of coffee--half milk, five sugars--then sat on the couch and stared at his league-issued phone.

He didn’t want to call Batman right away, his mind was racing over how the conversation might go, even if it wasn’t anything personal. He set the phone aside and pulled out his laptop, resolving to work on his latest article for a little while.

After about half an hour, when not a single word of progress was made, he sighed heavily and shut the computer down. He grabbed the phone and dialed Batman’s number, sitting back and trying to ignore the racing beat of his heart.

“Hello Superman,” Batman growled. “You were out late.”

“Nah, I went home and showered before I called you. I was pretty gross,” he said, smacking himself internally as soon as the words left his mouth.

“Ah, nice,” Batman said, and Clark could hear the smile in the other man’s voice. “Thanks for telling me that.”

“Anytime,” Clark smiled himself, pushing away the sinking emptiness in his gut. “So, what did we need to go over?”

“Wayne is set to call you tomorrow, I presume?” He asked.

“Yes,” Clark said. “I gave him the burner phone number at the end of the night. All I have to do is answer when he calls, and Flash will think he’s got my personal line. Then I act all awkward and shy, and ultimately confess to him that I’ve been seeing our mysterious playboy benefactor.”

“Sounds good,” Batman huffed. “I’ve uploaded the pictures of Kent and myself that he sent me, so they are accessible via my access code. I’ll load them on the computer tomorrow evening, and make sure I’m  _ longingly _ scrolling through them when Arrow comes in.”

“Great,” Clark said, grimacing at the crack in his voice. The silence was heavy on the line for a minute.

“Something’s wrong, Superman,” Batman growled. “It was last night, and it is tonight.”

“I’m fine, really, B,” he said, fighting tears now pooling in his eyes; a result of his friend’s obvious concern for and yet complete ignorance of Clark’s situation. “Just have a lot on my mind right now.”

“Boy scout,” Batman said, the growl in his voice toned down. “You can talk to me, you know, I’m here for you, even if it’s something personal.”

“I know,” Clark said, silently cursing his friend. “I know, B, I’m just...I’m not ready, okay? I’ll figure it out.”

He hated the silence on the other end of the line; felt that Batman was analyzing his words; his tone of voice, his everything. Was petrified that, against all logic, somehow Batman knew that it had been him confessing his feelings the previous evening. 

“Okay,” Batman said, softly. “Good night, Superman.”

“Good night, Batman,” Clark murmured back. He hung up the phone, and found that he could no longer hold back the flood. He hadn’t allowed himself to be outwardly emotional the previous evening, and hearing the man he was in love with, who didn’t love him in return, his words still so full of care and kindness, had made it hurt even more.

He knew Batman cared about him, and he was sure that if he knew Superman  _ was _ Clark Kent, that he would have been more sensitive to how he spoke to him. It was as if he was unknowingly teasing him; caring for  _ Superman _ as a friend and teammate should, but rejecting his affections in any other form.

Clark thought about trying to work on his article some more, now that the conversation was over, but doubted that he would be able to get anything done. Instead, he had a mug of warm milk and went to bed.

\-----

“Something’s definitely wrong with Superman,” Bruce said, walking into the room where Alfred and Tim were sitting on the floor playing chess. Dick, Jason, and Damian were all out and about the city, as they usually were on a Monday evening. Tim’s presence meant they hadn’t needed back up, which helped Bruce breathe a little easier.

“What makes you say that?” Tim asked, moving a knight and staring intently at Alfred.

“He’s suddenly distant, or something,” Bruce answered, rubbing his chin. “Bad move, bud, Alfred’s got your rook cornered now.”

Tim groaned as Alfred knocked out one of his pieces, and flopped back against the couch.

“Maybe he’s also woebegone,” Tim suggested, looking up at his father and snorting. “I’ve never seen you pining like this, Bruce. It’s  _ weird _ .”

“I’m not  _ pining _ , Tim,” Bruce said, rolling his eyes and collapsing onto the couch behind his son. Alfred raised an eyebrow at him before moving one of his own pieces. “I’m not!”

“With all due respect, sir,” Alfred said, stifling a grin and meeting Tim’s eye. “You are  _ absolutely _ pining. That is precisely why I encourage you to express your interest in Superman when you phone him tomorrow evening.”

“Yeah,” Tim said. “You’ll be done with Green Arrow before you have to call him, right? Just go to your quarters and call him, and if he wants to meet up, you can come back down to Gotham.”

“Fair enough,” Bruce grumbled. “But what do I say? Hey, Superman, I know we only went on one really long but really fake date, and I know you probably think I’m a fucking manwhore, but I’m in love with you! That’s not really going to work.”

“ _ Language _ , Master Bruce,” Alfred said scowling. “And no, that definitely will not work. All you have to do is simply express that you enjoyed your time on Saturday, and wish that the two of you might do it again sometime.”

“That’s basically what Clark said to me,” Bruce sighed. “What if all of this is a terrible mistake? This was supposed to primarily be about the league, Alfred, and now I’m confused about my feelings for Superman  _ and  _ my potential feelings for Clark Kent. Who do I pursue? Clark is definitely interested, but I genuinely meant it when I said that I don’t think I could fully commit to a relationship with him, given my feelings for Superman.”

“You could take a page out of old Two-Face’s book and flip a coin?” Tim suggested, smirking. Bruce glared at him, so he gulped and turned his attention back to the chess board.

“You did what was honorable by letting Mister Kent down gently,” Alfred said. “And I personally think it would be a waste of over ten years of your life if you chose to simply let your feelings go without saying anything.”

“Grrrrrhhhhmm,” Bruce moaned, frustrated as he shoved a pillow in his face like a lovesick teenager. “This is why I don’t  _ do _ feelings, Alfred. They’re complicated as shit.” Alfred opened his mouth to speak, but Bruce cut him off. “Yes, yes,  _ language _ . I know.”

They all sat in silence, Bruce watching as Tim and Alfred continued their game. He was amusing himself by trying to predict Alfred’s moves--he had played with him enough to know what strategies he liked to use--while also trying to figure out how he would have played differently against his butler than his son, who was struggling to stay afloat with the few pieces he had remaining.

“You might as well give in, Tim,” Bruce said after a while. “I give Alfred three moves before he’s got you in checkmate.”

Tim made a face at Bruce and kept playing. 

True to his father’s word, Alfred had one the game by the third move.

“Master Timothy,” he said, holding back a smirk. “I would like to say you provided good competition, however considering the vast difference in our respective remaining pieces…”

Bruce burst out laughing.

“How does it feel, Tim? Being roasted by Alfred?”

“It feels like I want you to teach me how to play, so that I can beat him,” Tim said, glaring at both of them. 

“Good luck, Master Timothy,” Alfred said. “Neither Doctor Wayne, rest his soul, nor Master Bruce have ever been able to defeat me in chess. I was formally trained myself when I was younger, and I’m afraid that I know every trick in the book.”

Tim looked to Bruce, who nodded. “I can give him a run for his money, but I’ve never actually won.”

Just then, Dick and Damian walked out from behind the clock, already stripped of their costumes and looking incredibly tired, but content.

“Father, you should have seen us!” Damian said, walking over to the couch and sitting next to Bruce. “Grayson and I took out  _ sixteen _ armed men.  _ Sixteen _ ! Just the two of us. My fighting skills are impressive, yes, but even I was concerned at their numbers.”

Dick smirked as he walked into the room as well, pulling his hair out of his ponytail and standing next to Damian.

“It was pretty sick, Bruce,” he said. “Damian’s getting a lot better.” He ruffled his brother’s hair and laughed at his noises of protest. “Jason’s still out. Probably won’t be in for a while.”

“As per usual,” Bruce sighed. He let his hand rest against the side of his head and stared up at the clock.

“Still pining over Superman?” Dick asked, perching on the arm of the sofa. 

“Yep,” Tim replied, now helping Alfred to pack up the delicate glass pieces. “And now Clark Kent asked him out on a  _ real date _ .”

“The reporter?” Damian asked. “Well, in my opinion, he’s a much more suitable candidate than  _ the alien _ .”

“ _ Damian _ ,” Bruce growled. “I’ve talked to you  _ countless _ times about calling Superman that. It needs to stop.”

Damian just rolled his eyes.

“Anyway,” he continued. “Pennyworth said you were going to tell him tomorrow evening. Is that true? Or have your affections now been won by this  _ Kent _ man?”

“No, I’m still going to tell him tomorrow,” Bruce said, looking sideways at a blushing Alfred. “I made it clear to Clark that I have feelings for someone else. I just hope that he has feelings for me too.”

Dick, his twenty-four year old son, stuck out his tongue in disgust.

“This is just weird, Bruce,” he said. “You’re talking about  _ feelings _ and  _ love _ as if that’s normal for you.”

“I know, right?” Tim piped up. “It’s kind of unnerving, actually.”

“Oh my god,” Bruce laughed, standing up. “I won’t talk about it then! Good night boys, Alfred.”

He was met with a “good night father,” two “good night Bruce”s and a “good night sir” as he made his way out of the room and upstairs.

He thought about Clark. He thought about Superman. He wondered how the experiment would go once they had officially begun. 

But most of all, Bruce ran through ways to confess his love for Superman the following evening.

He still hadn’t decided when sleep overtook him.


	5. Leaked

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Superman and Batman follow through with their plan, and Bruce is a little heartbroken.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is chapter five!
> 
> Thank youuuuuuu for your support. I love you all

In order to convince Arrow of his and Kent’s purported relationship, Batman really only needed to pull up the photos of him and Kent near the end of his shift, but he found himself flicking casually through them the entire time he was on duty.

It wasn’t necessarily that he was entranced by Kent himself, rather he was trying to mentally re-live the date as if it had been with Superman instead. He felt guilty, especially considering how the fake date had obviously made Clark feel; but the man reminded him so much of his best-friend-turned-massive-crush, that he couldn’t help it. 

Clark had laughed at Batman’s snarky jokes and snide comments as if they were something he was completely used to. Clark had made _him_ laugh on several occasions, which was something that was admittedly normally limited to Superman, or Bruce’s family. _And_ Clark had somehow made him feel comfortable enough to talk a little bit about himself, even if it wasn’t much. Again, that was something usually limited to Superman and his family, and _even then_ it was rare.

But still, even with all of these things about Clark that had him intrigued, Batman couldn’t just forget about his feelings for Superman. There was something about their past; the fact that they had shared so much together, and that because of it they could potentially be the only other person that _truly_ understood what their lives were like.

Bruce Wayne had never settled down in the past, not because there hadn’t been suitable candidates, but simply because it was highly unrealistic. It would have been impossible for Bruce to share any part of him with someone, without revealing his superhero persona, and by the time he knew a partner long enough to trust them with _that particular_ secret, it would be too much to have hidden for the entire relationship, and they would inevitably leave him. 

And now, there was another problem; Bruce was almost certain he would never find someone that he could ever love as much as he loved Sueperman.

Superman had his _complete_ trust, and revealing his billionaire persona was a hell of a lot less shocking than revealing that he’s the Dark Knight; and the more time they spent together, the more Batman felt that maybe it was just time to tell Superman about Bruce anyway, even if they didn’t become an item.

The experiment got in the way of that though. Now he was worried that Superman would feel betrayed; as if Batman had been spying on him or something while he and Bruce gallivanted throughout Metropolis; making sure they were doing everything correctly, instead of just trusting him. This meant that Bruce felt the prospect of telling Superman was not an option at the moment, even if he desperately wanted it to be.

His kids and Alfred were right, though, and he knew it. He needed to confess his feelings to Superman one way or another; they were beginning to eat at him, and he knew deep down that he _was_ pining (even if he’d never admit it). So, the phone call later this evening it was. That was his chance, and he was going to take it.

He was on the selfie Clark had taken of Batman kissing his cheek when Arrow walked in.

Batman waited just long enough so that he was certain Arrow would see who it was and would be certain that it was a kiss, faking a startle only when the vigilante spoke.

“Bats! Is that Clark fucking Kent?!” He said. “Was that a picture of you kissing Clark _fucking_ Kent?!”

Batman turned to him and, now that the faked situation was actually happening, found himself actually blushing a little. 

“No,” he growled. “I don’t know what you’re talking about; you’re mistaken.”

“No,” Arrow said, dragging his hand down his cheeks as if this was the most shocking news he had ever heard. To his credit, it probably was. “No, I’m not. That was totally _Batman_ kissing Clark Kent, that hick reporter from the Daily Planet! Isn’t he like Superman's best friend or something? That guy writes stories about Supes like it’s nobody’s business.”

“ _This_ is what’s _nobody’s business_ ,” Batman growled, starting to gather up the paperwork he had made no headway on. “My personal life has nothing to do with the league.”

“Oh my god you’re so embarrassed,” Arrow laughed. “You’re totally fucking Clark Kent! How long have you been dating? Does Supes know? Oh my god if he doesn’t know he’s going to kill you!”

“Good night,” Batman snapped, rising from his chair. He pretended that he was about to leave, gasped quietly, then turned back to properly shut down his server.

“Oh my god you’re flustered too!” Arrow’s mouth was just hanging open now, staring at Batman like he had never seen him before in his life.

“ _Good night, Green Arrow_ ,” Batman growled again, logging out of his platform and stomping out of the room.

As he walked away, he heard Arrow laughing out loud, and what sounded like the dialing of a phone. He smiled slightly, content that the plan had worked and certain that his news would spread incredibly fast. The smile was wiped from his face, however, when he realized that Superman and Flash would be starting their sparring session right about now, which meant that Bruce had to make a phone call in half an hour.

\-----

Superman ducked as Flash launched forward, trying to aim another punch to his invulnerable cheek.

“C’mon Flash, you can go faster than that,” Superman laughed, challenging the younger hero. He knew that if he played with him a little, Superman could really get Flash going. That was when he seemed to do the most improving.

Superman couldn’t help but keep his eye on the clock in the training room, watching as the minutes ticked slowly by. They were inching closer to eight-thirty with every combination they practiced, and Superman found that his heart was racing slightly.

He didn’t know why, and he might have been able to calm himself if he took the time to think through his feelings logically. That was, however, extremely difficult with a speedster throwing punches and kicks at you, trying his hardest to knock you down.

Finally, right on time, Superman heard his burner phone ring from the bench where his cape was sitting. 

“Sorry, Flash,” he said awkwardly. “I gotta grab that.”

“Who’s calling you?” Flash laughed. “Is it Bats? Doesn’t he know we spar on Tuesdays?”

Superman looked up at him as he grabbed the phone. He looked down and smiled, like Batman had instructed him to. The thought of Batman calling him made his stomach twist uncomfortably; a random reminder that he had been rejected.

“Hello?” Superman said, suppressing his hurt while simultaneously trying to sound slightly flirtatious. It was only one word, but it seemed to peak Flash’s interest.

_“Hey Boy Scout_ ,” Bruce Wayne said smoothly on the other line. “ _Did I interrupt your sparring session? If I did, I’m_ so _terribly sorry!”_

“You know you interrupted me, Bruce,” Superman said, forcing himself to giggle. “I told you I had to practice with Flash tonight!”

_“I’ve been missing you the last few days. I can’t stop thinking about our date on Saturday, even if it was staged_.”

Superman’s face flushed again, Bruce’s words very similar to Clark’s own on Sunday evening.

“I’ve been missing you too,” he said. “I had _such_ a good time on the weekend.”

Flash had turned his back at this point, but Superman could see that the speedster’s hand was pressed to his mouth, as if he was trying not to laugh.

_“I know you’re just saying that because Mr. Flash is in the room, Superman,”_ Bruce’s voice was velvety, almost gruff. It rasped for a brief moment of familiarity, sending chills down Superman’s spine. He wasn’t sure why _. “But I meant it. I’ve been missing you, and thinking about what that kiss would have felt like if it was on the lips instead of the cheek.”_

His cheeks grew more scarlet as his mind raced. _What is happening? I’m going to have to turn him down if he keeps this up;_ _but how the hell can I turn him down without messing up Batman’s plan?_

“It _was_ a nice kiss, babe, that’s for sure,” Superman said awkwardly, watching as Flash’s shoulders shook with suppressed laughter. “But Bruce, I really should be going, I’m keeping Flash waiting.”

_“I’ll happily wait for you, then, Superman,”_ Bruce crooned into the phone. _“I hope you know that. You’ll blow our cover if you say no to me, so I won’t ask you out again today, but I want you to know that I’m interested in taking this further. Definitely_ very _interested.”_

“I’m not,” Superman said, trying to keep his voice on the light side of sincerity. “I’m sorry, you know I’d love to say more, but I’m busy right now. I really have to go. Yes you too. I miss you too. Good night!”

Superman said nothing else and quickly ended the call, horrified at what he had just done. He had panicked, and shut down Bruce Wayne abruptly and not exactly in the most gentle way. He had a tight feeling in his chest, and felt like he wanted to cry, but a voice behind him reminded him he couldn’t right now. He swallowed thickly.

“Bruce...Wayne?” Flash asked. Superman suspected that if Flash’s white lenses weren’t covering his eyes, they would have been bulging out of his head. “Bruce fucking Wayne.”

“Actually, it’s me, fucking Wayne, but…” Superman said without thinking. What the hell was he doing? He had just rudely shut down the billionaire _over the phone_ and now he was willy nilly continuing to pretend that the two of them were in a loving relationship? With sex? And making jokes about it?

“Supes!” Flash gawked. “Who are you, and what have you done with Mr. Truth, Justice, and the American Way? Cause he sure as hell isn’t standing here in front of me. This is some lovesick bastard who’s somehow nailed a billionaire! Bruce Wayne!”

“You weren’t supposed to overhear that, Flash,” Superman said, his face still red but not from embarrassment. He was flushed with frustration and guilt over the phone call. “But there’s no sense in denying it, because you clearly did.”

“Oh my god! Have you been out with him, then? Have you been to his house? Do you have any pictures?”

Superman bit back a scoff; Flash was making this way too easy. He caught on himself that Bruce meant _Bruce Wayne_ , and he literally _asked_ for the pictures.

“Yes, not yet, and yes,” Superman sighed. “But only a few.”

He grabbed the burner phone and flicked through the pictures Wayne had taken of the two of them, casually showing Flash and trying to act embarrassed, but also ridiculously happy. Meanwhile his heart was throbbing in his chest.

It seemed to work, because Flash cut their sparring session short. He claimed he ‘had places to be,’ but Superman figured he was just itching to tell someone about what he had just learned. 

After Flash had raced out of the room, Superman grabbed the burner phone again and hit redial. Bruce’s phone rang a few times, until finally he picked up.

“Hi Bruce, it’s Superman,” he said, quietly. “Look, I know I was…”

“It’s okay, Boy Scout,” Bruce said, quietly as well. “I got the message.”

“I just…wanted to say,” Superman stuttered. “That it isn’t you, Bruce, it’s just that...I just...have feelings for someone else.”

“Please,” Bruce said. “I got it, okay? I’m not for you, and that’s fine. Don’t worry. I’m a big boy and can take care of myself.”

“No!” Superman said, desperately. “I wasn’t...I just…”

“Good night, Superman,” Bruce practically whispered. “I did have fun on Saturday.”

“Good night, Bruce,” Superman said. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Bruce said. The line clicked, and the billionaire was gone.


	6. J'onn Reveals All

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Superman and Batman find out the truth--not because of their own intelligence, but because J'onn just comes out and says it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay guys so chapter six is right here.
> 
> I hope you like it. I've had quite a few comments on this which I am incredibly grateful for. I'm so glad that all of you are enjoying this, and as it's coming to an end I hope you aren't disappointed with how I wrote it lol
> 
> I changed it to 8 chapters because I'm considering writing another chapter, but I'm not sure so I might change it back to 7. We will see.

Batman had left the Watchtower late Tuesday evening, and Superman had not seen or heard from him since.

Admittedly, he was very confused as to why. Their experiment had been a raging success, and if either of them should be running away, it was him. Batman had rejected Clark after all, not the other way around. 

Unless Bruce had told Batman how abruptly he had rejected him; maybe Batman was kind of pissed at him anyway.

Super-hearing was extraordinarily helpful when trying to track rumors. Superman had advised Batman against planting recording devices throughout the lounge, but nothing had ever been said about the use of his powers. Besides, he could easily pass it off as accidental if anyone ever asked.

To his knowledge, around  _ 80%  _ of the league knew about Superman and Bruce Wayne by the  _ following morning _ , and the rumor surrounding Batman and Clark Kent was on its tail as well. Both rumors had reached all of the founding members by that time, and come the end of the week, it was fairly clear that everyone knew of both situations. 

Superman was subsequently and regrettably being grilled about the whole situation.

“It was only a few dates, Diana,” he was saying, after having been accused of keeping this from her. She would never gossip to others, but she definitely liked being in on secrets. She was so hurt, apparently, that Superman kind of wished that he and Batman had let her in on their plan. This feeling was especially strong, given that Diana was relentless with her inquiries.

“Yes,” she said. “But is it serious? What does Batman think of this?” A gasp. “What do  _ you _ think about him dating  _ Clark Kent? _ ” 

“Batman is entitled to date whomever he would like,” Superman said, trying not to let his voice crack. He was supposed to be content in his ‘relationship’ with Bruce. It would blow his cover if he got emotional while talking about Batman and Clark’s love life, or lack thereof.

“I just can’t believe this,” she was saying, sipping a coffee and shaking her head. “I can’t.”

“I promise, Diana, it was not malicious intent that prevented me from telling you,” Superman tried to reassure her. It wasn’t entirely a lie, but it implied something other than what he really meant.  _ It was because it’s not even real _ . “You just… you see how fast things spread around here. I told Flash  _ like two days ago,  _ and the whole league already knows.”

“Oh, I know,” she said, leaning back. “Everyone probably knew by the end of the day on Tuesday. You think me grilling you is bad, wait until some of the younger members get their hands on you! They’re  _ literal  _ teenagers, and metas or not, they gossip like them too.”

Superman sighed, and stood from the table, bidding Diana goodbye and taking his coffee with him to his personal quarters. There, he collapsed onto the bed and laid there, thinking about Batman and the experiment, and wishing that he hadn’t done any of it.

In retrospect, it was silly to hope that Batman would develop feelings for Clark Kent after  _ one date _ . But, then again, Bruce Wayne had clearly developed feelings for Superman, so maybe it should have worked the other way too.

_ I don’t even know _ , Clark thought to himself.  _ I have no idea what’s going on, and I have even less of an idea what to do about it. _

Knocking pulled him out of his thoughts. He sighed and glanced through the metal, surprised to see Batman standing on the other side. He opened the door and stepped away, allowing his friend to come in.

“I’m not here to stay, actually,” Batman growled. “J’onn asked me if we would meet him in the monitor room. Apparently he’d like to  _ talk to us _ .”

“Do you think he found out?” Superman asked, suddenly feeling nervous. “Do you think if he did that he’d be upset with us?”

“I don’t care if he’s upset or not,” Batman said. “We are founding members just as much as he is, if not _more_ _so._ The purpose of the experiment was to see if we needed to lecture the league on gossiping, and given that I have now heard both of our rumors and I haven’t even been on the Watchtower since Tuesday night means that we _absolutely_ do.”

“We already knew that before-”

“J’onn doesn’t know that,” Batman cut him off. “And if you’re honestly worried about it, Superman, just let me do the talking. We better go, though.”

They made their way down to the monitor room, and found J’onn sitting in the chair, fingers tented and staring inquisitively at the screens.

“Good evening, gentlemen,” J’onn said, his voice characteristically low and smooth. “There seems to be a bit of a problem here.”

Superman cleared his throat awkwardly, looking up at Batman. Was J’onn being intentionally vague? Purposefully ambiguous? By problem, he could have been referring to the rumors circulating the Watchtower, just as they had been, but he also could have been addressing the fact that Superman and Batman had deceived the league.

Batman might not have cared if they got in trouble with J’onn, but Superman sure did. The plan had sounded harmless, but it had also resulted in a lot more distraction than they had ever thought it might. That was something they didn’t need, and in retrospect should not have brought to the Watchtower.

“I know about your little experiment,” J’onn said, looking up at them with raised eyebrows. “And I thought you might be interested to hear my observations.”

Superman looked over at Batman, and visibly relaxed when he saw his friend was smirking. He turned back to J’onn and he was smirking as well.

“As much as I dislike the idea of deception, I too was intrigued by the premise.” The martian still had his fingers tented, and even though Superman now knew he wasn’t angry, he still felt like he was sitting in the principal’s office in Kansas, being reprimanded for accidentally snapping the pencil sharpener off the wall.

“How did you even know about it?” Batman growled, stepping further into the room and closing the door. “This was kept between Superman and myself.”

“Yes, initially,” J’onn chuckled. “But both of you have  _ very _ loud thoughts, and though I tried to block them out, I could not avoid them entirely. I ended up only getting bits and pieces of your plan, but I was able to connect them well enough.”

Batman glanced at Superman this time; who couldn’t help but feel like the look insinuated that it had been  _ Superman’s _ thoughts that had been loud, despite the fact that J’onn had said  _ both  _ of them.

“I commend you for your creativity,” J’onn continued. “It was very intelligent, using your civilian identities to avoid knowingly endangering a civilian.”

Superman’s eyes widened, and he swallowed thickly.  _ How did J’onn… _

“Wait, what?” he said, looking over to Batman, whose lips were pursed. His heartbeat was picking up, and he noticed that Batman’s was incredibly loud and fast as well. He tried to meet his friend’s gaze, but the dark knight seemed intent on looking away.

“It was incredibly simple, really,” J’onn said,  _ somehow _ oblivious to the incredibly nervous state he had left his colleagues in. “Superman going on a date with Bruce Wayne;” he gestured to Superman, and then to Batman when he said Bruce Wayne. “And then Batman going on a date with Clark Kent?” They both watched as J’onn gestured back to Superman as he said Clark’s name. “Ingenious really.”

Both Batman and Superman were stunned into silence, save for the rapid and erratic beating of their horrified hearts. J’onn began to look uncomfortable at their lack of comment, and Superman was just about to try to say something (though he was pretty sure nothing would come out) when Batman spoke.

“Yeah, I thought so too,” he said, swallowing thickly. “I...uh...I just thought it would be best if we didn’t include anyone else in the league, or any civilians, so…”

“And it worked,” J’onn said, relaxing visibly, either somehow still oblivious to the remaining tension or choosing to ignore it. “The entire Justice League believes that the two of you are romantically involved with the other’s alter ego, emphasizing the disappointing fact that we have a very problematic quidnunc in our midst.”

Despite their nerves, Superman could hear Batman snort at J’onn’s use of his ridiculous word, and he couldn’t help but roll his eyes.

Batman cleared his throat. “So what were the results you wanted to share with us?”

J’onn smiled. “Ah yes. So, though Batman’s rumor reached me first, I am certain that Superman’s rumor spread more quickly. Green Arrow actually only directly told 6 people about Batman, myself  _ and  _ Flash included, while Flash told...42 people about Superman...”

“For Christ's sake!” Batman growled. 

“And then another 38 people about Batman…” 

“That kid, I swear to-”

“In forty-five minutes,” J’onn finished. Even through the white lenses of the cowl, Superman could see that Batman’s eyes were blown wide as well. 

“What did he do, run around the tower and tell every person he could find?!” Batman growled. “He’s a  _ founding member!  _ I know he’s young and all, but he should fucking know that he can’t just…”

Superman put a hand up as soon as Batman swore, knowing that J’onn despised cussing. Batman saw it, mumbled an apology and then  _ pulled off his cowl. _

Bruce Wayne ran a hand through his hair, which was damp with sweat. 

“What should we do here, J’onn?” Bruce asked, looking up at the martian. “I thought maybe we should just call a whole league meeting, but if Flash told  _ forty-two _ fuc... _ freaking _ people, and then  _ more _ , it’s pretty clear that  _ he  _ is the problem!”

“I have to agree, Batman,” J’onn said, respecting their hero identities despite Bruce’s sudden openness; a revelation that Clark had still not adjusted to. He was staring at the man beside him, and was pretty sure Bruce was aware of it, but didn’t say anything. “Flash is also the type of person who does not enjoy personal confrontation, especially from  _ you _ . Perhaps that would be all it took for him to wise up.”

“True,” Bruce nodded. “But honestly I better bring someone to keep me in check.” He turned to Clark now, and flashed the signature smile Clark had seen many times the previous Saturday. “Maybe the Boy Scout.”

Clark felt as though his brain had broken, and found that he couldn’t say anything.

J’onn looked inquisitively at him, then turned his attention back to Bruce. “I can attend too, if you wish. Simply inform me of a date and time, and I will be present.”

“Thank you J’onn,” Bruce said. “It likely won’t be necessary, but I’ll consider your offer. Is there anything else you wanted to mention?”

“That’s all, Batman,” J’onn said, looking at Clark again. “Although, our comrade here suddenly looks slightly ill…”

“I’ll handle that,” Bruce said, resting a hand on Clark’s shoulder. “I’ll take him back to his quarters. I think we need to chat anyway.”

“Good night, gentlemen,” J’onn said, relaxing his hands and turning his attention back to the monitors. Clark watched wordlessly as Bruce Wayne pulled on Batman’s cowl, gripped his arm gently, and led him out of the room and down the hall.

Clark wanted to say something, he really did, but his mouth was dry. So many thoughts were racing through his mind as he followed Batman back to their quarters. He felt more like an empty shell than himself, and it was a  _ very _ strange feeling.

_ Had Batman known the whole time? Had Bruce recognized him? How did he not realize that Bruce felt so familiar because he  _ **_was_ ** _?  _

“You’re lucky I’m not J’onn, Superman,” Batman growled as he pressed his thumb to the sensor on Clark’s lock. “I can hear you thinking _without_ telepathic abilities.” The door to his quarters swung open, but Clark was too confused and dumbfounded to be surprised. Besides, Bruce explained it almost immediately when they were inside and the door was shut.

“I have my fingerprint in every scanner on this tower,” he said, pulling off the cowl again. “I can get into any room because someone has to be able to, and I’m the only one I trust not to abuse it...besides maybe you.”

Clark continued to stare at Bruce as the gloves of the batsuit unclipped the cape and belt and pulled them off, laying them on Clark’s coffee table. The gloves themselves came next, revealing familiar calloused hands that Clark had held just a few days ago. 

Clark finally came to his senses, more or less, when Bruce began unclipping the red cape from his back. Once it had also been discarded on the table, Bruce gently guided Clark to the couch and they both sat down.

Bruce took a deep and audible breath. 

“So…” he said, sheepishly. “Hi, Clark.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, thank you for your support!


	7. I Love You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clark and Bruce talk about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so I'm having surgery tomorrow, so I decided I would post the final chapter and the epilogue today. I hope you guys are happy with the ending.
> 
> Thank you for all of your support.

_ “So…” he said, sheepishly. “Hi, Clark.” _

Clark looked up at him, unsure how to react even to the simple greeting.

“...um...Hi, Bruce,” he stuttered, swallowing thickly. “What’s happening right now?”

There were flutters in Clark’s stomach that made him uncomfortable. His heart was still pounding and his brain felt fuzzy. He still just couldn't believe what had happened.

“You’re Bruce,” he said, pointing clumsily at Bruce. “You’re Batman.”

“Yes,” Bruce said, nodding. Clark’s mind was racing over the likelihood that Bruce thought he was a total idiot at this point, but he was looking the man’s face up and down and could not find a trace of judgement.

“How…?” Clark said.

“Well, you knew Batman had to be a rich guy, right?” Bruce said, smiling gently. “I’ve got it all. Funds, traumatic past, four sons to be Robin, etc.”

“No,” Clark blurted. “Not how are you Batman… Bruce... but how in the hell did I never clue in? It seems so obvious now!”

“I know,” Bruce said, chuckling lightly. “You too. You seem to conveniently be in the place that you’re needed every damn time; that was smart, Clark, becoming a reporter.”

“Well, I didn’t just do it for the cover,” Clark said. “I do love it, too. But yeah, it’s worked in my favor a few times. But you...how can you…?”

“I pretend to be ditzy,” Bruce said, quietly. “Like I told you on Saturday. Everyone thinks I’m an idiot who cares about sex and money, but that’s not even remotely close to it. Instead I'm an idiot dressed up as a Bat.”

“No,” Clark said. “It’s not even close to either of those things."

“Look, I shouldn’t have...volunteered...myself like that,” Bruce said. “I see how that could be considered a violation of trust, and I just…”

“Bruce,” Clark interrupted, finally feeling like maybe he had a little bit of a handle on the situation. “Don't you see I literally did  _ the exact same thing?  _ I jumped on the chance to spend more time with you as soon as it presented itself. I didn't even think about the consequences. ”

They sat in silence, just watching each other. He felt like the whole situation they found themselves in was surreal. 

“I just don’t... _ how? _ ” Clark asked again, putting his hands on his thighs. “How did I not see this? I’m an investigative  _ freaking _ journalist. I should have put this together a  _ long time ago _ .”

“You’re talking, Clark,” Bruce laughed. “I’m the one who’s supposed to the World’s Greatest goddamn _Detective_.”

“And during all your sleuthing into the personal lives of the league, you never figured me out?”

“No,” Bruce said. “I honestly didn’t. I thought that maybe you were  _ just _ Superman, which in retrospect, was kind of dumb. You’ve _ literally _ talked about your mother and father before; just last week you mentioned her apple pie… Oh god, Clark. We ate fucking applie pie and beef bourgignon, which just  _ happen  _ to be Superman  _ and _ Clark Kent’s favorite foods… you talked about your Pa as Clark too, about Gray Ghost! Oh my god, I’m such a fucking idiot.”

He dropped his head in his hands and his shoulders were shaking with laughter. 

“Bruce,” Clark said. “You should be proud of yourself, because you never even gave me a  _ clue _ that you were Batman. You pretended you thought my fortress was in Metropolis; you asked if I was comfortable flying with you, even though I’ve done it a thousand times before; you consulted a schedule I’m almost positive you had memorized prior to the date…and you even pretended to be shocked that I put a  _ ridiculous _ amount of sugar in my coffee!”

“I wasn’t pretending! It shocks me every time,” Bruce laughed. “And don’t give me too much credit; I called you Boy Scout, without even thinking about it; but you believed me when I said I got it from Batman.”

“Yeah, because you were convincing!” He laughed, but it trailed off as he realized what  _ else _ had happened between them. His face fell slightly. “You were convincing about a lot of things.”

Bruce cleared his throat.

“It’s easier to be convincing when you’re telling the truth,” he almost whispered. He was looking at his lap now, and once again refused to meet Clark’s eye. “More than ten years of working together, Clark, and more than ten years of the strongest friendship I’ve ever had.”

He paused, cupping his hands together and finally meeting Clark’s eye.

“And I’ve loved you for most of it, just never let myself admit it.”

“Me too,” Clark said after a moment’s pause and a deep breath. “My skin may be invulnerable, but my heart is not. I was scared.”

Bruce laid his hand palm up on Clark’s knee, and smiled when Clark took it, intertwining their fingers and squeezing lightly.

“I shut Clark Kent down because I had prior feelings for  _ Superman _ , and couldn’t just give them up for a reporter. We had so many memories together, and I had  _ wanted _ you for so long…”

Clark squeezed again.

“I will say,” Bruce continued, smiling. “You had me intrigued, though, Mr. Kent. I couldn’t comprehend why the hell Batman seemed so willing to tell this random journalist his entire life story. I had to stop myself from blurting it all out. It makes sense now though, because I’ve  _ always _ felt that I could tell you anything...If I’d just plucked up the courage to say this _one very important thing_ , we could have avoided this whole mess.”

“Hey I didn't have the courage either," Clark said. "And I want you to know, I just panicked on the phone the other night, when I was talking to Bruce, because I had feelings for  _ Batman... _ I didn't mean to shut you down so abruptly, but I didn't want to lead you on.  I felt the same about you. I kept thinking, wow, this man is amazing...but Batman...there’s so much history between us and I can’t just throw that away. Especially because Batman had talked up how much of a playboy Bruce was.”

“Yeah,” Bruce chuckled. “Batman really hates Bruce; particularly that he has the capacity to  _ feel _ things. Batman thinks feelings are  _ fucking stupid. _ ”

“And now Batman is talking about himself in third person,” Clark laughed. “And now  _ I _ know that even if he thinks they’re stupid, Batman actually  _ has _ feelings…”

“And those feelings are for  _ you _ ,” Bruce said, smiling gently. It was cheesy as hell, but it sent chills down Clark’s spine. 

“For the record,” Clark said. “In case I haven’t made it clear already, which I think I pretty much have, but I want to make sure because this whole thing would be-”

Bruce cut him off by pressing their lips together. It was not a feverish kiss, but slow and passionate as years of tension and longing melted away. Clark wanted to keep it going, but Bruce had to pull away for air.

“I have feelings for you too,” Clark finished his rambling from before, smiling and blushing.

“I know, Superman,” Bruce chuckled. “You really are a bit of a bumbling reporter, aren’t you?”

Clark blushed. “Unfortunately, yes. Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Bruce said. “It’s kind of adorable, actually, especially when you’re rambling about how much you _ love me _ .”

“Which is a lot,” Clark added, smiling again. He pecked Bruce on the lips again, then stood up. “We should talk to Flash. Get it over with.”

Bruce stared blankly at him for a minute, then snort-laughed. Clark looked confused.

“The longer we wait, the harder it’s going to be, Bruce,” he said, shrugging.

“Yes,” Bruce said, standing slowly. “But not only is it late at night, I also thought that maybe we could...you know…”

Clark returned the blank stare. He could tell that Bruce wanted to laugh, at first, until he realized that Clark was genuinely uncertain of what Bruce wanted.

“You know…” he tried again. “Make use of our private quarters... “ Still nothing. “Particularly the bed…”

“Oh. OH!” Clark said, cluing in and blushing furiously. “Oh…”

His cluelessness shifted into interest as he reached for Bruce’s hand and pulled him in for another kiss.

“I suppose Flash can wait until another day,” he said. “We _ do _ have  _ years _ of lost time to make up for…”

“We do,” Bruce said. “So...bedroom?”


	8. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Batman is testing Flash.

“Forty-two people, Flash!” Batman growled, pacing the room. “Forty-two fucking people, in forty-five fucking minutes!”

"Don't forget the other thirty-eight," called another voice, traces of a smirk audible in his inflection.

Superman was perched on a table at the side of the room, watching the scene unfold before him. Flash was sitting in a chair in front of Batman, his arms folded on his lap, looking slightly terrified. Clark kind of felt bad for him, but also made no move to calm Bruce down.

“We thought that maybe it wasn’t entirely your fault,” Batman said, now pointing dramatically at the speedster’s chest. “So, we leaked the information to someone else as well.”

“Who?” Flash asked, curious. Clark could hear the young man's heart absolutely pounding in his chest. Obviously the batglare still had its full effect on him.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Superman snorted. He shut up as soon as Batman turned the glare onto him; although it really didn't bother him as much.

“It doesn’t matter, Flash,” Batman said, shaking his head. “He only told six people. Six! That is literally seven times  _ less _ people than you told, and even  _ that _ is too many!”

“It was Arrow, wasn’t it?” Flash asked. “Is he getting a lecture too?”

“No!” Bruce yelled again. “No, he’s not, and even if he  _ was _ , it’s none of your fucking business! That’s the whole point of this!”

Flash grumbled under his breath.

“And I want to make sure you’ve actually learned something, Flash,” Batman continued. “So I’m going to give you another piece of information, and this time, I am flat out  _ forbidding _ you from telling a  _ single soul _ .”

Flash stared straight at him. 

“Just in case you don’t understand just how  _ serious _ I am,” he growled. “Let me make it crystal clear. If I  _ ever _ hear this piece of information from someone who is  _ not  _ in this room  _ right now _ , you are  _ done _ with the Justice League. If anyone else finds out about this, and they have not been told by  _ Superman _ or  _ myself _ , you will be off the team.  _ Permanently _ .”

Flash kept staring at him, his mouth dropping open slightly. Clark could see a flash of fear mixed with intense curiosity across the younger man's face.

“Do you understand?” Batman growled. Flash nodded, which apparently wasn’t good enough. “ _ Do you understand _ ?”

“Yes!” he practically squeaked, gripping his chair. “I understand!”

“ _ Good _ ,” Batman growled. “Superman, will you come over here please?”

Clark hopped off of the table, and stepped over to where his boyfriend was standing, unsure where the situation was going.

Much to Superman and Flash’s surprise, Batman grabbed Superman’s shoulders and tugged him forward, smashing their lips together in a passionate kiss. They broke apart moments later, and turned to leave the room. Superman couldn’t help but smirk at Flash’s horrified expression.

“Not a word, Flash,” Batman growled. “ _ Not. A. Single. Word. _ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is it, guys! I know a few people commented about a few things they wanted to see, so if I feel motivated, maybe I'll come back and add another chapter or two. But it likely won't be soon because I'll be out for a few weeks starting tomorrow.
> 
> I hope everyone is staying safe, and I just want to say thank you again for all of your kudos and comments. It's appreciated!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for stopping by!


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